When I'm Sixty Four
by fantasticarla
Summary: ONE SHOT. HD slash! Draco muses as he watches a sweet elderly couple.


**Title:** When I'm Sixty-Four

**Summary:** Draco muses while watching an elderly couple. One shot. Fluff galore!

**Ship:** H/D, of course. If slashy goodness isn't your cup of tea, adios! Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

**Rating:** M for some language and sexual content. Not for kiddies!

**Disclaimer:** Sue me and you'll get a burned Gym Class Heroes CD, a couple pairs of Chuck Taylors, and maybe half a box of stale Cinnamon Toast Crunch (the taste you can see!) if you're lucky. So obviously, I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters. Fool.

**When I get older, losing my hair  
Many years from now  
Will you still be sending me a valentine  
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?  
If I'd been out till quarter to three  
Would you lock the door?  
Will you still need me, will you still feed me  
When I'm sixty-four?**

**You'll be older too  
And if you say the word  
I could stay with you**

**I could be handy, mending a fuse  
When your lights have gone  
You can knit a sweater by the fireside  
Sunday mornings go for a ride  
Doing the garden, digging the weeds  
Who could ask for more?  
Will you still need me, will you still feed me  
When I'm sixty-four?**

**Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight  
If it's not too dear  
We shall scrimp and save  
Grandchildren on your knee  
Vera, Chuck & Dave**

**Send me a postcard, drop me a line  
Stating point of view  
Indicate precisely what you mean to say  
Yours sincerely, wasting away  
Give me your answer, fill in a form  
Mine for evermore  
Will you still need me, will you still feed me  
When I'm sixty-four?  
_The Beatles_**

They shuffled along the sidewalk at a calm, unhurried pace, in direct contrast to the hustle and bustle of the world around them. As the snow swirled crazily and the evening rush of holiday shoppers pushed, shoved, and elbowed each other out of the way in what seemed an inescapable, furious haste, the oblivious couple gripped each other's forearms gently, happily pointing out the Christmas displays in various shops along the busy London street.

Draco lounged against the large bay window facing the lively metropolis, idly stirring his now lukewarm tea as he observed the aged couple. An involuntary smile touched his lips as he noticed how the husband smiled endearingly down at his petite wife, patting her arm and nodding as she excitedly told him something.

The woman's face was heavily wrinkled; it betrayed many years of smiles, frowns, and heartache, but the obvious love that shone from that worn countenance made it difficult to focus long on the imperfections. Her husband walked with a slight limp in his right knee but continued to hold his wife close, occasionally whispering something in her ear that made her laugh merrily. The pure adoration that emanated from this couple was enough to make Draco's eyes well up, much to his embarrassment. He turned around to make sure Harry hadn't seen him, but his boyfriend was completely engrossed in Dante's _Inferno_ for perhaps the fifth time and hadn't noticed a thing. Draco shook his head lightly, smiling ruefully, and turned back to the window.

Would he and Harry be like that when they were old? He wondered, his eyes falling on the smiling couple once more. Sure, they were all lovey-dovey now, but then again, they were both only 25, freshly back together after a nearly two year split, and very much in love. They could hardly bear to be apart for more than a day, but how long would that last? It didn't seem possible to feel that same devotion and passion for the same person after 50-plus years, but people did it all the time, didn't they?

Certainly _this_ couple had the secret to long-lasting happiness, Draco mused, watching as the elderly pair turned a corner and disappeared into the night. It's definitely possible. And although the thought of being with someone for _so long_ used to frighten him somewhat, the contrasting thought of _not_ spending the rest of his life with Harry was absolutely unbearable. It had taken them too, too long to get where they were, and damned if he was going to throw it all away in a fit of cowardice. No, he had learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago…

"_What the hell are you saying, Draco?" Harry spit out angrily, his chest heaving. Draco groaned loudly, frustrated, tugging at his hair the way he always did when he was confused._

"_I don't bloody KNOW, Potter! I just-"_

"_Potter? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Harry asked quietly, his emerald eyes suddenly growing bright. The air in the room hung heavily upon the two men, making them both feel too compressed, trapped, like a balloon with too much helium that would pop with the slightest touch._

"_Harry. Harry, listen, I-"_

_But Harry was already walking away, striding briskly into their shared bedroom and furiously throwing his clothes into an empty suitcase on the bed, occasionally stopping to roughly wipe at his eyes his the back of his hand. Draco watched with a growing feeling of dread and panic. He wasn't really leaving, he couldn't. Not like this._

"_Will you fucking listen to me?!" Draco shouted, shaking. Harry glared at him, red-faced, continuing to pack._

"_No, Draco," he seethed. "I've heard enough of your half-assed excuses. You're not ready to commit to me. I get it."_

_Draco furiously grabbed the pile of clothes already packed and threw it towards Harry. Harry bent over, silent, gathering them up and placing them back in the bag._

"_Draco. Stop."_

"_FUCK, HARRY, JUST LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE BLOODY SECOND!"_

_Harry stopped and stared at Draco, his mouth in a thin hard line. Draco looked away and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself._

"_All I'm saying is maybe this is going too fast! I'm not telling you to leave! It's just…we're still so young, and after all that's happened after the war and my parents, it may not be wise to-"_

"_**NO!**" Harry screamed suddenly, making Draco jump. "I fucking love you, Draco! I want to be with you! And I don't give a damn how old we are, or what's happened in the past! Do you really think that I could really-that I could-" Harry broke off, his face twisting as tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks, a sight that twisted Draco's heart painfully in his chest. Remarkably, his voice remained relatively steady as he bit out, "I don't know, if you want to see other people, then-"_

"_No! No, Harry, it's nothing like that-"_

_Harry slammed the suitcase shut, picked it up and walked across the room. "I can't do this anymore, Draco. I'm tired of these guessing games. Goodbye." The finality in his voice cut through Draco like an ice-cold knife, and he felt completely numb. He distantly felt Harry shove past him and watched him walk down the hallway and turn the corner. His feet stumbled backwards and his back hit the wall, sliding down slowly as his knees buckled. He felt himself hit the floor woodenly as Harry slammed the door behind him, staring, without seeing, at the wall across from him. He couldn't cry. He couldn't move. He was absolutely frozen, from the inside out._

_He stayed there for a long time._

Draco shivered, breaking himself out of somber reverie and getting up, stretching his limbs that were beginning to cramp up from sitting in the same position for such a long time. _That chapter is over, Thank God_, he thought. He picked up his cup of tea and shuffled over to the sink, quickly rinsing and placing it into the dishwasher. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the familiar head of tousled black hair peeking over one of the black leather recliners in the living room.

"Have you got that book memorized yet?" he asked jokingly, drying his hands on a dishtowel. Harry's didn't reply, and Draco walked over, turning off the kitchen light as he went. "Harry?"

When he reached the chair he chuckled slightly. Harry had, once again, fallen asleep reading. His head was resting oddly against his right shoulder causing his glasses to go askew, his mouth slightly open and chest rising and falling slowly. His book was hanging loosely in his fingertips, and Draco was able to catch it right before it fell to the floor. At the motion, Harry started, his eyes flying open and blinking a couple times before settling on Draco.

"Hey," Harry mumbled, adjusting his glasses and giving Draco that sleepy smile that always made his heart skip a beat.

"Hey," Draco replied, amused, offering a hand to Harry to help him up. Harry grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up, interlacing their fingers and brushing his lips lightly against Draco's before breaking it off with a yawn.

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly, pulling him toward the bedroom. They undressed quickly, sliding into bed in nothing but their boxers, as usual. Harry sighed happily and lazily draped his arm around Draco's back, pulling him close and dropping a kiss on his forehead. "Merlin, how sad," he joked, drawing light circles on Draco's smooth back while gazing lovingly into his slate grey eyes. "I'm turning into such an old man I have a bedtime now."

Draco snorted lightly, running his hand through Harry's disheveled hair before settling it at the base of his neck. "You are _not_ old," he reassured him, pulling him in for a slow kiss, loving the contented sound Harry made in his throat as their tongues gently caressed. When they separated Draco smiled oddly at him, Harry's words remining him of his earlier musings.

"What?" Harry asked. "You've got that weird look, like there' something you're thinking about but you're not sure how to say it."

"Jesus Christ. Don't do that, it gives me the creeps," Draco said truthfully, his eyes widening. It was uncanny how well Harry read him sometimes. Harry snickered.

"Just tell me."

Draco sighed softly, pushing Harry's fringe out of his face to run a slender finger along his scar. "I was just…thinking, earlier…about us growing older together," he murmured, suddenly feeling shy and foolish. "You know…all wrinkly, with walkers and such."

Harry squinted at him, suddenly placing a cool hand on Draco's forehead as if checking for fever. "Are you all right?" he asked, his lips twitching as he tried to hide his smile. He's never heard Draco say anything like that. Since they'd gotten back together Harry had never harboured any doubts about Draco's desire to be with him, but this…this was new. Draco batted his hand away, mildly annoyed and a dull flush rising to his face.

"Stop it, I'm serious."

"I know." Harry smiled at Draco's blush. "I think about it too. And I look forward it," he stated honestly. Draco nodded, swallowing.

"So do I."

Draco suddenly lost himself in the vivid green of Harry's eyes, sudden images flashing in his mind of next 50 or so years—he and Harry fondly reminiscing over a cup of tea about the old Hogwarts days and all the fights they got into; Harry reading one of his beloved books—with much thicker lenses in his glasses, no doubt—while Draco puttered around in the kitchen making more mess than food and finally giving up informing Harry that tonight would be another take-out night; Draco and Harry playing with their…children…_grandchildren_? Whoa.

"We still have _some_ time, though," Harry whispered, watching Draco's emotions play across his face with amusement. He smiled before pressing his mouth against the blonde's, pushing one knee between his legs to part them before drawing himself on top of Draco. He involuntarily drew in a quick breath as Draco's fingers slid down his flat abdomen to hook under the edge of his boxers.

"What do you say we take advantage of our youth while we still have it?" Draco gasped, sliding off their unwanted garments and grinding his hips against Harry's.

"Absolutely," Harry breathed huskily, and they did just that.

Every time you ignore the little blue button, GOD KILLS A KITTEN. Please, think of the kittens. Meow?


End file.
